Little Miss Robin Hood
by OCs-for-everyone
Summary: Laila was a hopeless mess when the shit hit the fan. But after losing so many, her friends, family, being forced to survive on her own, she adapted. Just like we all had. How will the group at the prison be affected by the arrival of a young wounded warrior? How will individuals within the group be changed?
1. Eyes Open

DARYL'S POV:

We were out on a supply run when we found her. I guess, in actuality, she found us.

We were crossing what appeared to be a deserted street, so far free of walkers. Glenn, Maggie, and myself made up the scavenging party. Glenn was rambling on about something we had to keep our eyes peeled for when his speech was interrupted by a sharp intake of breath.

Maggie and I spun, weapons up and ready. But the single walker was already dead, a lone arrow protruding from its skull.

"Daryl?" Glenn asked, confusion written across his face.

I shook my head. "Wasn't me."

The three of us turned to look in the direction the arrow had come from. Nothing was there, but we all caught the tail end of a black piece of clothing rounding the corner of a building.

I motioned for the other two to follow me as I sunk low to the ground, moving as quickly as I could across the street after the retreating back. We turned the corner just as the unknown entity had, but came up short. The way was blocked by another building. There was no space between the three buildings surrounding us; a dead end.

"Up there," Maggie said, pointing skyward.

I glanced up.

A small figure in a black jacket with the hood drawn up was lifting a leg onto the roof of the building. On the figure's back was a bow and quiver of arrows. The figure turned to look down at us. Because of the hood, we couldn't see their face, but it was immediately evident that it was a girl. Long black hair drifted lightly in the breeze, concealing her face further. What little we could see was that she was smiling, apparently confident in having lost us.

I eyeballed the surface of the building. She would have had to be very lithe and quick-witted to have scaled the entire wall in that short amount of time. She could be gone before I reached the top, but I wasn't about to let her get away.

"I'm goin' after her. You two go 'round the buildin', keep an eye on her. Follow her if she gets away from me."

They nodded, heading back out of the other end of the alley.

I slung my crossbow onto my back, hitching my foot up into the deteriorating cement of the brick building. From there, I made my way from windowsill to windowsill, making fairly good time. Another look up told me that the girl was gone and made me move a little faster.

When I finally reached the top, after a few wobbly moments of doubt, I could see her standing on the opposite side of the roof from me, facing me with her feet planted on the edge.

I quickly drew my crossbow, with an arrow already loaded, pointing it at the girl. "Stay there!" I barked, taking a few slow steps forward.

As I got closer, she lifted one foot and nonchalantly dangled it behind her, over the edge of the building. I stopped with a jerk. She wouldn't really jump just to get away from me, would she? I tried gaguing her resolve, but the curve of her full lips gave nothing away.

"I saved your friend's life," she spoke softly, but loudly enough. "Why are you following me?"

I dropped my crossbow slowly. "Come over here," I demanded.

Her hooded head turned to the side, looking out over the edge, where I could hear Maggie and Glenn in the street below. "Why? Afraid of heights?" She did a graceful about-face on the precipice, apparently fearless. She bent over, looking straight down into the street. "Hello, down there!" she called, waving.

While her back was turned, I rushed forward, intent on snagging her around the waist and bringing her back from the edge.

"Bad idea," she sighed pitifully, bounding easily out of my reach and grabbing my arm. She twisted it behind me, holding me out over the edge.

"Daryl!"

"Let him go!"

She loosened her grip on my arm, but didn't let go. "Sorry, reflex," she apologized, not sounding sorry at all. "But really, what kind of manners are those? Do people just go around grabbing up young girls where you're from? Well, I guess I'd better let you go, or your friends are going to think I'm gonna kill you." She released me, pushing me back onto the solid roof.

I lifted myself, snarling, "What the hell is your problem?"

I lifted my head to see her give me an informal salute, "Catch you around," she chuckled humorlessly. I watched, dumbfounded, as she sprinted across the roof and jumped, spanning the distance between the buildings easily.

Oo0oO

When I reached the ground, Glenn and Maggie were waiting with open mouths. "She's some kind of parkour free-running ninja," Glenn muttered.

"I don't wanna talk about it," I grumbled to myself, limping slightly as I stormed away from them.

A WEEK LATER:

"Going to look for little miss Robin Hood again?" Glenn asked as I walked past him outside the prison cells that morning.

"I'm gonna find her."

"Did you ever think maybe she doesn't want to be found?"

"She's young. She's on her own. She can't make it out there."

He sighed. "Looked like she was doing alright. I mean, she did outrun all three of us, and then she knocked you on your-" he broke off with an apologetic look when I glared at him.

So maybe she had some skills and could survive on her own, but something about her made it impossible for me to stop looking for her. I was going to bring her back to the prison, whether for her own safety, or for payback.

Oo0oO

In the week since we crossed paths with that girl, I had been back to this particular stretch of road four times. Walkers roamed through the tiny section of town only on occassion. Today wasn't one of those days. Not one person (living or otherwise) occupied the place.

I stood alone, in just the spot I had been when Glenn had been saved by the mysterious archer.

"What are you doing here?" came the voice I had been waiting to hear.

I turned around slowly, unsurprised that I hadn't heard her approach. Unlike the last time she had spoken to me, she sounded displeased.

I sneered at her. "I could ask you the same thing."

Her hood was up again, her jaw clenched in anger. "Stop following me. Stop looking for me. Stop coming here." She spun on her heel and started making for one of the buildings to her left.

"Wait," I called out to her.

Shockingly, she listened to me. With a huff, she faced me again. "What do you want?"

"I want to know who you are. How you made it this far on your own."

She gave me a smirk. "Who says I'm alone?"

I looked her up and down. I knew the look of a loner when I saw one. "Somethin' tells me you don't play well with others."

She crossed her arms with an amused smile. "Something tells me you're the same way."

I shrugged.

"So what's your name?" she asked, walking toward me.

"Daryl Dixon."

She pursed her lips and made a "Hm," sound, circling around me, watching me. "Alright, Daryl," she spoke the name as though she thought it was fake. "I'm Laila. Laila Gibson," throwing back her hood, she extended her hand.

Her skin was pale, with a smattering of freckles over her nose, and a pair of narrowed hazel eyes. Up close, it was easier to see how long her black hair really was, extending down to her waist. Her jaw was squared, combining with high cheekbones to create a softly accentuated facial shape.

I secured her hand in mine and shook it once.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Reviews are greatly appreciated! :) **


	2. Encore

GLENN'S POV:

"Where's Daryl?" Rick asked, pocketing his snub-nose pistol.

"Out looking for some girl," I told him, following behind him as we walked out onto the prison yard.

"Some girl?" Rick asked, turning back to me with narrowed eyes.

I nodded. "When we went out on that supply run last week, some girl with a bow and arrow pegged a walker that almost got me. Then she climbed up this huge building in eight seconds flat, and when Daryl came up after her, there was kind of an... altercation."

"A fight?" Rick asked, astounded. "I don't think Daryl would fight a girl."

I shook my head. "He was trying to get her to come back from the edge of the roof and when he reached for her, she kinda threw him down onto the rooftop. It wasn't much of a fight."

Rick stood in shocked silence for a few moments. "A girl threw Daryl Dixon down and got away from him?"

I nodded. "A young girl, too. Couldn't have been older than twenty."

Rick nodded. "I can see why he's looking for her."

DARYL'S POV:

"So this is where you've been staying?" I asked, entering the apartment with the number 48 on the door.

She nodded. "Yep. Home sweet home."

The place was actually pretty nice, all things considered. The couch against the wall was threadbare, but looked comfortable enough. A TV that hadn't been used in a long while sat across the room, DVDs and video games piled atop it.

"So, Daryl," she spoke slowly, turning to me. "Why did you come to find me again?"

I watched her carefully. She was dangerous, despite her appearance. She might be young, but she was wily and quick on her feet. I had to remember that. She was obviously good enough at laying low to watch me looking for her without my notice.

"We have a group," I started in a low voice as she lowered herself into a seat on the couch. "Me and the people that were with me last week."

"At the prison?" she asked. When shock skirted across my features, she grinned. "Oh, I know all about the prison. I make a point to get familiar with my surroundings and just happened to stumble on the prison when I was scouting one day when I saw some of what must be your group."

I ignored the creepy chill I got from knowing we had been being watched and stepped forward. "Look, we could use someone like you. You'd be safe. Ya know, strength in numbers and all that."

Her smile broke, giving way to a speculative frown. "There's a reason I'm alone."

"Why?"

Her hazel eyes, boring into the coffee table in front of her, shot up to me. "Because I get people killed."

I wasn't sure that I had any more words for her response. I watched as she stood from the couch and walked out of the room, a faraway look on her face. "What do ya mean?" I asked, following after her when I finally regained my voice.

She stopped in a small kitchen, leaning back against the counter. "You don't want me in your group, Daryl. Just turn around and go back to the prison. And do me a favor?" she scooped up her bow and arrows where they were leaning against the wall and breezed past me, glancing back over her shoulder. "Don't come looking for me again." Before I could say anything else, she had thrown open one of the windows in the living room and smoothly slid out.

Oo0oO

It was late in the evening when I returned to the prison. Rick met me at the gate, opening it up as my motorcycle rolled noisily up the gravel path. "So, did you find her?" he asked when I had shut the bike's engine off.

I glanced up at him. "Glenn told you?"

He nodded.

I sighed, "Well, I found her finally. But she's dead-set on bein' on her own."

"Glenn mentioned she was a good shot. And apparently she's excellent at climbing, too."

"Yeah, she got a walker straight through the temple from all the way across the street, climbed an entire building in a few minutes, jumped across a few rooftops to get away from me."

"She's skilled. We may need her."

As we approached the doors of our cell block, I lowered my voice. "Well, she doesn't wanna be part of any group. Told me not to go lookin' for her again."

Rick watched me knowingly. "And were you planning on listening to her?"

I contemplated his question for a moment before shaking my head. "Nah."

LAILA'S POV:

The wind blew my hood backwards, exposing my mane of thick black hair. I sighed into the breeze, giving my surrounding area a good once-over from my vantage point on top of my apartment building.

A few corpses had shambled into my section of town, three or four at the most, stinking the place up with the stench of rotted flesh. I turned away from the scene with a sense of emptiness.

It was like this every day. Scavenge across what little of the city I could and slowly work my way outward, always coming back to my empty apartment at the end of the day. It was a lonely life when you lived in a wasteland like this.

_You could go to the prison. Daryl already said they had a group, living people, and he already tried to get you to go with him. They wouldn't turn you away. _I shook my head, attempting to do away with thoughts like that. No, I would only hurt them.

What I had told Daryl was the truth. I did get people killed. My own parents, my brother, my sister, and every stray survivor that I had tried to help… dead. Because I was either too slow or too weak to stop what I had seen coming. At the beginning of the outbreak, I had minimal skill with a bow, and absolutely none of the litheness I had since attained.

This is why everyone I loved died. Because they had been trying to protect me, something I should have done for them. Sure I was better now, I could handle my weapon and I knew the extent to which I could push my own body, giving me a better range for physical movement.

But, I still wasn't sure I trusted myself around people anymore. If anyone else around me died, I wouldn't be able to stop blaming myself all over again.

I was just about to hop across the gap between the buildings' roofs when I caught sight of them. A fairly big group... and more coming with them. "Herd," I growled to myself, rushing in the direction of my apartment.

* * *

**I really hope you guys are enjoying this so far. As I'm sure you've noticed, it's slightly AU, but when one writes fanfiction, it's hard not to bend the universe the way you want to. I really don't mean to; it just kind of happens :P Hopefully you guys won't blame me for that. Thanks for reading! Leave a review pretty please! :) **


	3. Headstrong

DARYL'S POV:

The next day, I was on my bike heading for town, in search of Laila again. As I usually did, I shut the bike off quite a ways down the road, pushing it off the street and angling it so it wasn't immediately visible. I walked the rest of the way, checking to make sure I still had a loaded bolt in my crossbow.

Just at the edge of the town, I saw the back of a huge crowd of walkers, wandering aimlessly through the streets. Cursing under my breath, I ducked into a shaded alleyway. From the mouth of the alley, I glanced around, sizing up the herd. There were enough of them to fill up the entire road from one block to halfway up the next.

"Looks like ya need some help this time," I growled to myself, glaring across the street where her apartment building was being flooded with undead.

My eyes followed the height of the building, lingering over the rooftop, searching for the best access point from one of the neighboring buildings' roofs... There. A fire escape that had been knocked halfway loose and now rested against the side of the building next to it caught my attention.

I threw my crossbow over my shoulder and dodged my way across the street, through alleys and side-streets until I had reached the building the fire escape leaned against.

Above, I heard the slamming of a door, coming from Laila's apartment building's roof.

Swallowing my apprehension at eyeing the rickety set-up of the fire escape, I carefully set a foot on the metal grating. I cringed when it produced a loud squeal. As I took a few more steps, I heard _thwap, thwap, thwap! _in rapid succession from the roof. I was about halfway up now, still working slowly upward. Then a small, dark figure appeared at the top of the fire escape.

Coming from the roof was Laila, attempting to rush down the fire escape, looking like she had done it many times before. However, she had been in such a rush that she hadn't noticed I was in the process of ascending the broken stairway. I felt sure that if I hadn't been standing there, she would have made it to the bottom without a problem. But my weight threw off her normal foot placement. To make matters worse, the moment she caught sight of me, she froze in shock and the whole metal frame gave a shudder.

The bolts holding the top of the fire escape stationary popped away from the building. Laila fell to her butt on the metal, holding her upper body up with her arm, strung over the handrail. I managed to jump forward a few steps before the whole thing came crashing down.

I felt the empty air beneath me for a fraction of a second before the heart-stopping sensation of falling took over. I could feel that I had something warm and living in my hand, it was still there when the structure hit the ground. I could feel slight bruising already beginning over my ribs where I had hit the metal grating. I gave a small squeeze of my fingers to discover that I had snatched up Laila's hand on my last lunge to the top.

"Oh, fuck," I heard her gasp. "I think I broke my leg."

I lifted my head, blinking through the debris laying around us and the wasted fire escape. Laila was laying on her back, leg twisted at an odd angle and pinned beneath the collapsed handrail.

Struggling with my shell-shocked legs, I forced myself to think through the distracting background noise of walkers moaning with interest after the huge metallic crash. I finally reached a somewhat upright position, though the soreness in my ribs only intensified with my standing. I tightened my grip on her hand and used my other one to grab at the handrail. I met her eyes and gave her a nod.

She glanced between me and the handrail with a clenched jaw, then nodded back and squeezed my hand. As I yanked upward on the handrail, her body gave a few silent jerks. I was surprised; the most noise coming from her was the occassional sharp exhalation through her nose. Finally, after three or four painfully loud tugs, the handrail released her leg.

I strung her arm over my shoulder, attempting to hold her up, though her face lost its color almost immediately after she straightened up.

"My bow," she whispered weakly, turning her head halfway back to where we had made impact with the floor of the alley, with nothing but a metal death trap between us and the pavement.

I glanced over almost without thought and ascertained what I had already assumed. "It's broken. We'll have to leave it."

"No, damn it," she snarled, voice strengthening as she shoved me away and fell without my support. She dragged herself up onto her one useful leg and stumbled over to the weapon that was snapped in two. She managed to grab the shattered pieces, as well as her quiver of arrows (some broken, some intact), before I scooped her up and tossed her over my shoulder.

We got a lucky break for once and found an alley that housed only a single walker. I took care of him with the butt of my crossbow, then continued on, not pausing to look behind me.

I could feel Laila over my shoulder attempting to crawl down, beating on my shoulder, kicking her good leg. I gave her a quick shake, efficiently taking care of that problem. I was in sight of the end of town that I had come in on, but there was a sea of walkers between here and there.

I gently set the girl down against the wall. Her eyes were closed, but she was still concious, that much I could tell from the tense set of her face and the uneven breathing.

Taking my eye off her for only a moment, I crouched and leaned out of the mouth of the alley, watching for any opening in the hoarde, any break in the madness. A few buildings over was a street running almost parallel to the road I had come here on, one that would be more safely accessible, thanks to the buildings blocking the street's view of the city exit.

"What's the matter? All out of bright ideas?" the girl whispered venomously.

I looked over at her. Her eyes were narrowed, hardened by anger and pain equally. "I don't wanna hear it," I snapped quietly, turning my attention back to the open expanse of street between us and anything considered close to safety. "Ya really think ya woulda made it outta there alive on yer own?"

Though it must've taken her immense effort (and though she showed it very little), she leaned forward away from the wall, to look straight into my eyes, fury lighting every feature she possessed. "I've made it through worse." It was impossible not to believe her.

I turned away from her as she gave a sigh and collapsed back again. "We're gonna head down that way as soon as a few more of 'em clear out of the street." I nodded in the direction of our escape.

She didn't look at me, choosing instead to glower down the alley the other way, but she asked, "What if they find us first?"

I looked her over, with her bent leg, the tangles and dust in her hair, the scratches from the fall in the fire escape scattered across every bit of exposed skin. "We just gotta hope they don't." I rocked back from my heels onto my ass, leaning against the other building in the alley. "I'll watch the main road. You watch up 'atta-way," I pointed down the other end of the alley.

We sat in silence, her fuming, me not caring, in the shaded alleyway for a good fifteen minutes before I saw the perfect opportunity to make our escape. A few yards away, an abandoned car sat, doors ajar and hood propped open. It was far enough away that it could serve as a distraction for the shambling masses. I squinted one eye at it. My eyesight was good, but it wasn't quite _that _good.

"Yer a good shot, huh?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I guess so. Why?"

I pulled the crossbow from my back and held it out to her. "Ya ever shot a crossbow before?"

I watched as she attempted to fight a grin, and then gave up. "It's never too late to learn."

I helped her to stand, bent low to let her rest her elbow on my shoulder to steady her shot as she gazed down the length of the arrow. She drew in a large, slow breath and, with a relaxed exhale, jerked the trigger back and sent a bolt flying in a controlled line straight into the opening of the driver's side door where it embedded itself in the center of the steering wheel. Noises galore began exploding from the car.

I took the crossbow back and replaced it between my shoulder blades, smirking at her.

She shook her head at me and rolled her eyes, smile slipping from her face. "Just because we share a love of violence doesn't mean I'm not mad."

I frowned and bent down to let her throw her arm back around my neck to help her limp along.

We were doing fairly well. The car was doing a better job than expected at distracting them, and we were almost under the cover of the buildings leading out of town.

Suddenly, Laila's foot slipped out from under her. She was looking pale again, I noticed as she began to fall. Luckily my arm was hooked under her's, holding her up as best I could.

"Shit," she hissed. "Are we almost there?"

"Close," I nodded calmly. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a few of the walkers on the outer edges of the crowd around the car looking up and taking notice of us.

She followed my gaze and urged me on. "Come on, let's go!"

We had a hard time running for our lives with how heavily she needed to rely on me for mobility. "Time to bite the bullet, sweetheart," I murmured, grabbing her up bridal style and continuing to run along, her hands scrabbling to find a hold on my shoulders.

We rounded the corner and came in sight of my motorcycle, with just a little bit of distance between us. I figured her consciousness was too inconsistent at the moment to trust her ability to hold onto me on the back of the bike without flying off. Without wasting any time, I seated her in front of me on the bike, cranking the engine on and up to a loud roar. We sped off with a few walkers' hands reaching out and barely brushing against the fabric of my bike jacket.


	4. Hurt

She had passed out on the way back to the prison, head rolling backward to lean against my chest. It was a good thing she was so small, or I might not have been able to drive and hold her stationary on the bike.

Rick was waiting at the gate for me as usual, and, of course, had plenty of questions to fire at me after I had cut the bike's engine off. "So, you found her?"

I hauled the girl's body up into my arms, heading for the prison block, nodding. "Yeah, but she didn't come 'cause she wanted to. Her apartment building was overrun when I got there. We fell on a fire escape and she broke her leg. Passed out on the way here."

I noticed Rick's eyes searching her face. "How old is she?"

I opened my mouth to respond… and realized I had no idea. With the level of maturity necessitated by her prolonged survival, she could've ranged anywhere from thirty to forty. But with that slight frame, those full cheeks, that young personality… she was in her early twenties at the most, maybe even a teenager.

I settled for a shrug and continued into an empty cell, laying her body gently on the threadbare mattress.

When I stood up, Glenn was behind us, looking down on the girl with a confused expression. "What happened to her?"

"Broke her leg. When I got there, she was running away from a huge group of walkers."

"Whoa," Glenn murmured. "Something she couldn't handle?"

I heard a soft grunt from the bed. Laila was struggling to sit up, blinking at her surroundings. "I can handle myself just fine, thank you."

Suddenly angry at this girl's inability to show weakness, I grumbled, "I had to save your life."

She turned heated eyes on me. "If it weren't for you, my life wouldn't have needed saving."

I was about to snap back, but the words died on my tongue as I remembered the moment the fire escape had collapsed under us. If I hadn't been on it, she would've made it down without a problem. Her leg wouldn't have been broken, and she would have been able to sneak her way out of town to wherever it was she'd be headed next. The realization that she was right only made me madder. I swallowed my arguments and strode from the room.

LAILA'S POV:

"What's his deal, anyway?" I grumbled, trying to sit up without jostling my right leg too much.

I noticed the two men in the room exchange a glance. One of them was the guy I had saved from being turned into zombie chow last week.

Without answering my question, the man with curly black hair and a scruffy beard squatted in front of the bed, bringing him eye-level with me. "What's your name?" his voice was soft, but somewhat scratchy.

"Laila Gibson," I answered.

"Well, Laila," he eyed me thoughtfully. "I'm Rick Grimes. This is Glenn." He gestured to the Asian-looking man beside him. "I have some questions for you before we fix your leg."

I frowned. "How many questions?"

He shook his head. "Only three."

I gazed down at my busted leg, keeping my eyes trained on the fraying material of my jeans where blood was seeping through. "Fine."

"How many walkers have you killed?"

It didn't take a whole lot of inference to gather that "walker" was the term these people used for the undead. "As many as I've needed to," I answered in a whisper.

"How many people have you killed?"

I counted them up in my head. "Six."

"Why?"

I lifted my eyes, aware of the fact that the ghosts of my past were swimming behind them, revealing to him the guilt and sorrow at having expended those innocent lives for nothing. "Because I was too weak to stop it."

He considered these answers for a long moment, watching as my own torment slowly sank to hide within me again. Apparently satisfied with my answers, he nodded.

DARYL'S POV:

Glenn stopped by my cell, a large jug of water and some bandages in his hands. "We're going to need your help with getting her bone back in place."

I knew who he meant by her and I was in no mood to see her. "She don't want my help," I shook my head, starting to walk past Glenn and out the door.

"No," he stopped me, grabbing me firmly by the arm. I glanced back at him. "She _needs_ your help."

I stood there debating for a moment. Did I care enough to swallow my pride and help her? Was I still so emotionless that I would let a young girl linger in pain when I could do something about it? The two sides of my internal argument went round and round until finally, I gave up and nodded.

I followed Glenn back to the cell I had left Laila in. She was laying on her back on the bed, taking slow, deep breaths, with Rick standing over her, inspecting her leg.

"She's got an open fractured fibula," Rick told me when I entered.

I didn't know what exactly that meant, but one of the bones connecting her ankle to her knee was poking through the skin of her leg, blood gushing out around it.

"If we don't reset it, she'll never walk again."

At those words, her eyes flew open. "You're not gonna do it while I'm awake, are you?"

Rick met her eyes and nodded sympathetically. "We'll have to. We don't have anything to knock you out with."

I smirked down at her. "Don't worry. Ya won't be awake for long."

She still had enough strength to muster an unamused look.

The three of us surrounded the bed, pulling it out from the wall a little bit so we had easier access to her. Rick stood at the foot of the bed, Glenn to the side, and I stood hovering near the head of the bed.

Rick poured a few liters of water mixed with iodine over the wound, cleaning it as best as possible under the conditions. She gritted her teeth, but didn't cry out.

Rick dropped the bottle, meeting Glenn's eyes and nodding. At the same time, the three of us grabbed her and secured different parts of her within our grasps. I squeezed her shoulders in my hands so she didn't squirm too much. Glenn put both of his hands on either side of her knee. Rick pulled on the heel of her foot.

She gave a breathy grunt, going a little paler as her hands flew up to grip the metal frame of the bed. She closed her eyes forecfully, knuckles whitening as the bone strained against the skin.

Agonizingly slowly, Rick pulled until the bones of her leg were aligned and then gradually released the pressure of his hands, watching to make sure the bones went back together. All throughout the process, the girl was biting her lip, thrashing her head from side to side and every now and then a half-formed whimper escaped.

"Should we sew it up?" Rick asked, looking up at the two of us.

"No, it needs to be left open a little," Glenn said. "The one thing I learned in health class; open fractures should never be sutured. We can use some of these strips to keep the skin from reopening." He held out a nearly squished cardboard box of Steri-strips.

Rick took the box and used two or three of the strips to pull together the ripped edges of the skin of her leg, leaving quite a bit of open space between them.

I glanced down at her face. Her eyes were becoming heavy-lidded and unfocused.

"We're going to go get some crutches, she'll need to be kept off that leg for at least a week," Rick said as he and Glenn rushed out of the cell. "Keep an eye on her." Even if I had wanted to speak out, I couldn't; they were already gone.

"Is it over?" she whispered, head turned sideways on a tattered pillow.

I rounded to the side of the bed. "Yeah," I murmured back, all of my anger from before suddenly evaporated now that I could see how completely she was being forced to rely on us, total strangers to her. "It's over."

"Could you do me a favor?" she asked, voice quieting as her eyelids began sliding further closed.

Seeing no real choice, I seated myself on the ground in front of the bed. "What do ya need?"

Her chest gave a short convulsion as a laugh that almost turned into a sob bubbled up. The way she held her jaw taught gave away the fact that tears were likely coming. "What I need is for my mom to come back. I need my family to be alive again. But what I want you to do is easier."

I leaned closer as her words began slurring together.

"Just bring me the pieces of my bow." I watched her face as, eyes closed, the muscles in her cheeks and forehead jumped when pain registered, switching between agony and tranquility.

I nodded, and, though I was sure she couldn't hear me anymore, whispered, "Sure thing, kid."


	5. Bittersweet

LAILA'S POV:

When I woke up, a pair of crutches were propped up against the bars of the cell I was in, and the splintered pieces of my bow were lain carefully on the ground beside me.

I stared numbly at the pieces for a long while, remembering the day my younger sister had gotten it. She had always wanted a bow and she was so excited the day it finally came in. "Look!" she held up the thick, curved piece of wood with a strong drawstring and a rubber grip.

I had never gotten much into shooting it the way she and my brother had, preferring to watch their attempts, gleaning what I could just from observation. She had shown me in great detail how to replace the drawstring, how to keep the bow in working condition. If it weren't for her, I wouldn't have a way to protect myself now.

I sat up stiffly, noting that a homemade splint had been put on my leg. Two sizeable pieces of wood were held on either side of my calf by yellowing gauzy medical wrapping.

I leaned down and picked up one of the pieces of the bow, stroking the smooth surface and trying to forget the day my sister was taken from me, the day they were all taken from me.

A rap came at the bars to the cell, and Rick entered. "How are you feeling?" he asked, taking a seat beside me on the edge of the bed.

I shook my head, dropping the piece back into the pile of disfigured wood. "I don't really know. My leg feels okay I guess, but I feel... empty."

"You're probably hungry. You've been through a lot today."

I nodded with a concealed frown, sure that hunger wasn't what left me feeling so hollow (though my stomach let loose with a loud growl at the mention of food).

Rick gave a chuckle and stood. "I'll go see if I can find you something. You should probably stay where you are, with your leg the way it is."

I nodded, hesitating. "Thank you. For helping me."

He gave a smile that didn't reach his eyes before leaving the room. "Its what keeps us human, isn't it?"

His words hit home. Did I help when my family was being mauled by corpses right in front of me? What did that make me?

DARYL'S POV:

Everyone in the cell block was gathered around a low-burning caged-in fire, eating off of scratched ceramic plates with bent, twisted silverware.

"What's on the menu?" Rick asked, approaching from down the line of cells.

"That buck I brought down earlier this week. Been livin' off squirrel so long, I almost forgot what real meat tastes like," I mumbled around a mouthful of venison.

"I'm going to take some to Laila," Rick told me, grabbing an empty plate and throwing a few pieces of meat onto it from the still-sizzling pan.

Wiping my hands off on the leg of my jeans, I stood beside him. "She's gonna need more than that. Even if she doesn't wanna eat it, she'll need the protein."

I looked up at Rick's face. He was looking a little thinner, a little paler. It was stressful work keeping a prison full of people safe in this world.

I took the plate from him. "I'll take it to her. You stay and eat. Relax."

He gave a sad attempt at a smile. It was obvious he hadn't "relaxed" in far too long. I piled a few more pieces of meat on the plate and headed down the cell block, to the cell she was still in.

I stood in the doorway for a moment, thinking as I watched her staring blankly at the pieces of her bow. I guessed I owed her an apology. I did kind of fuck her chances of lone survival up. I still wasn't really used to the whole apologizing thing, though.

I gave an internal sigh and tapped my knuckles against the metal of the bars surrounding her, ducking inside the cell after she looked up. "Brought ya somethin'," I held the plate out to her.

She took it slowly, gazing at the meat distrustfully. "What is it?"

I gave a smirk. "Dog."

Her shocked eyes shot up to mine. I was unable to prevent the laugh that rocked my shoulders at her reaction. "Calm down, its just deer."

She barely hesitated in delicately ripping off a piece of the meat and taking an experimental taste. When she ascertained that it was edible, she took slightly larger bites, straining to take her time with it.

"Don't hold back on account-a lil' ol' me," I said, leaning back against the wall across from her bed.

She held my gaze for a moment, then stuffed a huge bite of the deer meat into her mouth, tasting it meticulously, obviously enjoying the taste of something that didn't come expired and out of a can.

"Ya had a bow and didn't hunt?" I asked curiously.

She barely looked up. "Never learned how. Never knew where to look. I guess I could've asked my mom, but..." she shook her head, adopting a faraway look. "I didn't think it was important when I had the chance."

"Care if I ask ya a question?" I wondered aloud, as shocked as her by my inquisition.

She shook her head. "You people are all about questions, huh? Shoot."

"How old are ya?"

She smiled. "That wasn't what I was expecting. Before I answer, can you tell me something?"

I nodded, confused.

"What's the date?"

I stared at her a long moment. The days blended together in the wasteland our world had turned into. Though I had been able to keep vaguely accurate track of the date, I was sure I was a few days if not a week or so off. "'bout halfway through February."

Amazement replaced her waiting expression. Wordlessly, she tore her eyes from me and stared out of the bars of her cell. "I guess I'm nineteen, then." She took another bite of the deer meat, chewing speculatively.

We sat in silence for a while, both of us sizing up the other.

"I'm sor-"

"Look, I-"

We both started to speak at the same time, stopping when we realized the other was talking.

"You go first," she said, a small smile appearing.

"I know what happened out there today, with yer leg and the fire escape... that was my fault-"

"No, I shouldn't have said what I did. You were just trying to help-"

"And screwed it up. So... sorry," the word felt awkward coming out of my stiff mouth.

"_I'm_ sorry. For what I said earlier. I wouldn't have lived through that if you hadn't been there. So thanks."

I ignored the fact that I could easily repeat her words from earlier, and chose to nod instead.

She held a hand out. "Truce?"

I eyed her outstretched hand, then smirked at her, turning to the doorway. "Nah, I like ya better as a rival."

She laughed whole-heartedly this time. "I do, too."


End file.
